


Jaskier’s Hot Take on the Evolutionary Biology of Hobbits

by kendianna



Series: Totally Original Witcher/Hobbit Crossover [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Behold a man, Elves are still Elves, M/M, The scene with the elves in the cave, Witchers are dwarves, bilbo!jaskier, but he can’t do a damn thing about it, geralt is diogenes and lives in a barrel, jaskier is a hobbit, thorin!geralt, tolkien definitely would not like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:33:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27973769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kendianna/pseuds/kendianna
Summary: Jaskier needs to pull together some quick thinking to save himself and his dwarven companions when they are captured by elves. Now that he’s gotten a better look at them those elves have awfully pointy ears.... and hobbits have awfully pointy ears.... oh my god are you all thinking what he’s thinking???
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Totally Original Witcher/Hobbit Crossover [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048829
Kudos: 25





	Jaskier’s Hot Take on the Evolutionary Biology of Hobbits

**Author's Note:**

> I was gonna say for legal purposes this is all a joke but the more I think about it the more sense it makes that the hobbits might be the long-lost love children of dwarves and elves??? Short? Pointy ears? It all adds up. 
> 
> Like don’t @ me Tolkien estate, but I think I might have cracked the code...

Jaskier spits out a mouthful of blood and coughs harshly, his chest aching where ropes hold him firmly in place next to his dwarven companions. Eskel groans in pain halfway between awake and unconscious, and he can hear Lambert’s teeth grinding as he suppresses his rage. Vesemir is silently dragging a sharp rock along the ropes closest to him and Geralt is trying to subtly jostle Eskel awake. It’s now or never - this is why they brought him along.

“Aren’t I living proof,” he rasps through clenched teeth, “that peace was at least once a possibility for your two people?” The elven lord Filavandrel turns slowly to face him from where he had been pacing across the floor of the cave. He bends down and down and down, until he and the hobbit are eye to eye, a glimmer in his eye and a hysterical look of disbelief on his face “I beg your pardon?”

Geralt quietly swears from behind Jaskier, begging the young idiot to shut his mouth while they are still ahead. The young idiot pays him no mind. This is literally his one job, and he has no intention of failing to perform to the very end if need be.

He feigns a laugh, and flips his hair off of his forehead as best as he can without the use of his hands, “Look at me! Short like them, pointy ears like you. You do the math - I would bet both my furry feet that someone from your bloodline and someone from his had what I would call the most ‘diplomatically friendly’ of relations some centuries or millennia ago. And now there’s an entire country of your offspring! I won’t say neglected by their parent races, that’s a bit unfair to both of you. But it’s not inaccurate either as far as I can tell,”

Lambert next to him holds himself stiffly upright and keens softly from trying to repress laughter, whispering a prayer to sweet dwarven christ. Filavandrel draws himself back up to his full intimidating height, face a stone mask. Vesemir on his other side is elbowing him desperately in his ribs, sharp rock abandoned, but Jaskier continues on fearlessly. “We’ve made a society for ourselves away from the big folk who would trample us underfoot. I’ve never been particularly proud of or overly attached to that society, but it’s a good one with decent folk. Where I’m certain either of your people would be welcome, if only you thought enough of us or not too much of yourselves to ask hobbits for refuge”

He looks now towards the dwarves he’s travelled with for the last few weeks, stalwart and brusque and kind at heart. His heart aches for them, and he feels guilty for what he’s about to say, aware that they will instantly know the extent of his inappropriate eavesdropping and that he’s betrayed the welcome they’ve given them into their party. He resigns himself anyways.

“And not that suffering is a competition, because it isn’t. You’ve lost untold thousands of elves to the thoughtless cruelty of humans. Your people were innocent and were slaughtered. That’s tragic. But the dwarves numbered only hundreds to begin with and now there are less than a dozen of them to be found anywhere in Arda. And they weren’t just innocent - they helped the humans despite their scorn. Destroyed the orc armies, pushed back the goblins and trolls into the deepest mountains where they now reside, kept the forests clear of giant spiders and their wicked webs - forests where you and your ancestors once lived if stories are to be believed!”

A harsh inhalation from behind him almost causes him to lose his rhythm and guilt eats at him, but he pushes on regardless, intimately aware that his pull of the room’s focus won’t last much longer. He has to finish strong. “You’ve both been hurt terribly, but you are not each other’s enemies... You may even be distant in-laws if my theory has any weight. You stand with few left trying to live and survive. They stand with few left trying to survive. And I am about to pass out from oxygen deprivation if I am not soon untied. Someone please do something about that!”

Water drips from the ceiling in a damp corner of the cave, splashing into a milky puddle where a stalagmite will form in hundreds of years time. It is both the loudest and only-est noise in the cave as several moments pass. Filavandrel scowls, but mutters to Toruviel to untie the dwarves and hobbit.

He steps forward and kneels before them, rubbing Jaskier’s wrists where they had been tightly bound, and inspecting his ears closely, thumb glancing over the small but undeniable point. He breathes out heavily before turning inscrutably to Geralt, who has moved to stand between Jaskier and Vesemir. For the first time since laying eyes on them, his gaze holds the beginning of respect. “This one is young and he is foolish, but he has heart, and by the gods he may be right. Our people have never been enemies, and I don’t know why we almost became them today. Can we part ways in peace?”

Geralt glances at Jaskier and smirks “Hmmm... If he is really our bastard as he so claims, then can you keep him for this weekend and the next?”

Jaskier scowls and opens his mouth to retort, but is rendered speechless when a laughing Filavandrel hands him the most masterfully crafted instrument he’s ever seen. It has an elegant neck, and beautiful floral carvings across the front that resemble whorls and swirls. His eyes cross and go dizzy looking upon it trying to focus on the minute detail in the working, and genuine tears threaten to fall as he is overcome with feeling “Why- how can I thank you? This is truly a kingly gift”

The elf turns up a corner of his mouth in a wry smile “Consider it roughly a thousand years of unpaid child support, and I think we’re close to even. I will investigate these claims of yours, visit the hobbit community myself even to test their veracity. Though I think you made the connection to save your skin, there is a very real possibility that your theory holds a kernel of truth. And if that is so, then our family tree needs to recognize an entirely new branch.”

His smile turns warmer and his face softens. He holds Jaskier’s hand, childlike in proportion to his own, and bends down even further until they are at eye level “Your words touched me, fauntling. Even if I find no shared blood between our people, the kindness of your offer of refuge for the elves will not be forgotten. From one lord to another, I thank you. Go well, friend”

-

That evening finds them making camp along The Path again, and though many heartfelt words were spoken and promises made to the elves before leaving, their journey since has been almost silent. Geralt clears his throat as he builds the fire, staring deeply into the growing flames and the movement around the clearing still, all heads turning to acknowledge him. He glances shrewdly at Jaskier who has frozen with his eyes wide and curry comb in hand, brush pressed softly against his pony butterball’s palomino flank.

“You spoke of things you had no right to know... I had a feeling your ears were keener than you let on. But it saved our lives. You could’ve used the same argument to beg for only your own freedom and mercy, but you advocated for all of us. You showed us today why you belong in this party. What you can contribute. Why the witch was right to vouch for you. You have my thanks, Jaskier”

For the first time, so quick he almost thinks he hallucinates it, Geralt smiles openly and warmly at Jaskier. He feels dumbstruck, and his heart thumps heavy in his chest. He instantly longs to see that radiant smile spread over the stoic dwarf’s face again. As much as he wants to respond with sincerity equal to what he’s been shown, he feels wrong-footed, and uncertain. He swallows over what feels like a goose-egg in his throat.

“Well, uhm... You’re certainly very welcome, my friend. Or should I call you uncle? Or perhaps step-dad? I pulled it out of my ass during the confrontation with the elves, and maybe it’s just confirmations bias talking, but now that I’ve had time to mull it over there’s a very real possibility we may be related. Distantly, of course. But... what, why are you all laughing?”

Where he reclines by the fire Geralt rubs his hands over his eyes, huffing softly. Lambert is on his hands and knees wailing with laughter near the tree line. Even Vesemir and Eskel are chuckling knowingly amongst themselves, but not unkindly. “Don’t tell me that’s the one thing you never caught onto in all of your eavesdropping? Jaskier, of course it was a load of horseshit. Dwarves are sterile. We all know that, and Filavandrel _should_ know that but has probably forgotten or was in a particularly forgiving mood. It’s an interesting thought you’ve come up with, but it’s just not possible. This is why morphology-based categorization of the species is useless. Just because you’re short and have pointed ears doesn’t mean hobbits descended from dwarves and elves. Without studying the hobbit genome or phylogeny it’s impossible to say where you came from with certainty, but you’re probably a mutated offshoot of elves and whatever else is capable of interbreeding with elves - most likely humans... Wh- why are you looking at me like that? Don’t cry...”

Jaskier sniffles pathetically into a handkerchief, “It’s just not every day your step-dad disowns you and calls you a mutant”


End file.
